You ask what makes dis dark weep.
Why he like other am not gay,
What makes de tears role down his cheek;
From early morn till close ob day.
My story darkies, you shall hear;
For in my memory fresh it dwells:
It will cause you to drop a tear
On the grave of my sweet Kittie Wells.
While the birds sang sweetly in the morning
And the myrtle and the ivy were in bloom
And the sun on the hill-tops was a dawning,
It was there we laid her in the tomb.
I never shall forget the day,
When we together roamed the dells,
I kissed her cheek and named the day-
When I should marry Kittie Wells.
But death came in the cabin door,
And took from me my joy and pride,
And when I found she was no more;
I layed my banjo down and cried.
I of-times wish that I were dead,
And laid beside her in that tomb;
The sorrow that bows down my head,
Is silent in the mid-night gloom,
The spring time has no charm for me;
Though flowers are blooming in the dells,
For there’s one form I do not see,
‘Tis the form of my sweet Kittie Wells.
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The images and audio files contained in the "So Mote It Ever Be: The Folksong Heritage of North Carolina's Northern Blue Ridge Mountains" collection are available for free personal, non-commercial, and educational use, provided that proper citation is used (e.g. I. G. Greer/W. Amos Abrams Manuscript Files Series, Folksong Files Subseries, W. L. Eury Appalachian Collection, Special Collections, Appalachian State University, Boone, NC). Any commercial use of the materials without the written permission of Appalachian State University is strictly prohibited. Please contact the Appalachian State University W. L. Eury Appalachian Collection with specific questions or with requests for further information.